Bound in battering ball and chain,

Inside my heart a feeling unstrange

Is felt when constant pressure reigns

The life of those in greatness trained.

But now that wrenching, soul-grasping vice,

Which claims conventional custom on life

Is broadcast open for all to see

The droning plot cloaked beneath.

_

For the bright smiling sun,

And the warmth of its rays

Upon the skin and deep within

Revive the long-lost fun

Which bring back days of many plays;

_

Freed from persuasion of ever busy mind

I daftly maneuver to those once remembered places.

That hold the joy and pleasantry which are hard to find.

It’s the outside air and the sun-filled faces;

The birds and chirps of glorious glee.

The time of rest has come to be,

And now shift sweat to ant and bee.